The room is dim, and a little cold; aside from one strong light above the dirty mattress where I lie, the rest of the room is wreathed in shadow. I can see the shapes of men there, the glinting of their eyes, hear the creak and rustle as they shift. Just how many there are, I don't know.

I'm exceptionally aware of my own near-nakedness; I've left my heavy coat by the door and now lie stretched out in nothing but platform-heeled boots, fingerless elbow-length gloves, a spiked choker, and a pair of plain black panties. My body is on display, my pale skin, my lithe torso, my narrow hips, the steely glitter of my piercings, the dark scrawl of my tattoos.

I keep telling myself that I'm only here for the money. That what I'm about to do, I'm about to do because of the £200 tucked into my handbag, left with my coat by the door. That I wouldn't do this - wouldn't even think about doing anything so vile, so filthy, so degrading - if I wasn't being paid for it.

Deep down, I know that's a lie. I know I'd do this without being paid for it. Heck, I might even pay for this myself. But the compensation makes it a little easier to look at myself in the mirror afterwards.

At some unspoken signal, the circle of men tightens and closes around me. The first of them take up their positions, squatting over me - one above my face, one above my smooth belly, a couple standing by my legs. A shiver runs through me, of delight and anticipation, as the man squatting over my face adjusts himself, lowers his puckering asshole towards me. I lick my dark-painted lips, my breath already coming in quick, hot little gasps, then open my mouth wide. I imagine how I must look, writhing hotly on the mattress, my lips parted in an erotic 'O' beneath the asshole of a man I don't even know. Somewhere in the crowd, there's the click, whir, and beep of cameras - digital, still-frame, video, all sorts. What I'm about to do will be recorded. My degadation is going to be preserved for all time.

Involuntarily, helplessly, I slip my hands into my panties and begin to masturbate.

And that's when it happens.

The man above me grunts, his asshole puckers, then bulges, and the head of a thick log of shit emerges, passing swiftly from his ass, past my open lips, and into my wet and waiting mouth. The taste and smell are indescribable. I'm aware of a hot and heavy sensation on my belly as another man begins to empty his bowels on me - the splashing of hot streams of piss against my quivering thighs - my fingers slipping past my pussy lips as I coax myself towards orgasm.

I bite down, earning myself a solid, sticky mouthful of shit, and the man shifts, dropping the remainder of the log onto my forehead as he stands. I chew, move the mess around in my mouth, roll it around with my tongue, savouring it, even as another man squats into place above me.